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Imagine your last ever meal being in Zizzi :-(

Actually, I had an oddly memorable lasagne in a Zizzi on the Fulham Road before Chelsea 2 Arsenal 3 (Winterburn screamer) in 1997.

Sadly, that memory is clouded by the fact that a Chelsea fan spat in my face after the game. Weirdly, he then double checked that I was actually a Gooner, and when I mumbled "'fraid so mate", he cuffed me around the head and said "never apologise for who you support, fella, NEVER!" and trotted off

Actually, I had an oddly memorable lasagne in a Zizzi on the Fulham Road before Chelsea 2 Arsenal 3 (Winterburn screamer) in 1997.

Sadly, that memory is clouded by the fact that a Chelsea fan spat in my face after the game. Weirdly, he then double checked that I was actually a Gooner, and when I mumbled "'fraid so mate", he cuffed me around the head and said "never apologise for who you support, fella, NEVER!" and trotted off

I had a pizza in one a couple of years ago. It was perfectly acceptable; a crisp, slightly blistered base, rendered tomato, some processed pork products and, crucially, a bottle of chilli oil.

There is speculation that the chosen weapon was an opioid. I put it to you that a Sunday afternoon out with your daughter, culminating in a pizza and a heroin doze, is something to which we might all aspire.

Actually, I had an oddly memorable lasagne in a Zizzi on the Fulham Road before Chelsea 2 Arsenal 3 (Winterburn screamer) in 1997.

Sadly, that memory is clouded by the fact that a Chelsea fan spat in my face after the game. Weirdly, he then double checked that I was actually a Gooner, and when I mumbled "'fraid so mate", he cuffed me around the head and said "never apologise for who you support, fella, NEVER!" and trotted off

To my knowledge, I’ve never been in a Zizzi. Or an Ask. I think I went to Prezzo once and got very cross about the service until they gave me the meal for free.

I had a pizza in one a couple of years ago. It was perfectly acceptable; a crisp, slightly blistered base, rendered tomato, some processed pork products and, crucially, a bottle of chilli oil.

There is speculation that the chosen weapon was an opioid. I put it to you that a Sunday afternoon out with your daughter, culminating in a pizza and a heroin doze, is something to which we might all aspire.

These places are exclusively for families with small children. I find the sight of people dining in them without kids almost poetic in its sadness.

I have frequented such places when doing the 'informal business lunch' thing, when neither party feels it appropriate to be frequenting a pub at lunchtime. I've even found myself in a Jamie Oliver's. Now that was a mistake.